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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635111">Hot as Sand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalbvcky/pseuds/Metalbvcky'>Metalbvcky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Artist Steve Rogers, Beaches, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Food, Gay Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, One Shot, Pining, Pining Bucky Barnes, Sort Of, Waiter Bucky Barnes, so much pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:54:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalbvcky/pseuds/Metalbvcky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There he was, the same gorgeous beefcake who had been making appearances every so often in the past week. Or, as Bucky called him, ‘Hot Blondie.’ </p><p>His golden-blonde hair had a wind-blown look to it, bangs sticking up in different directions. God, it should be illegal to stuff bulging biceps into a shirt that tight. </p><p>Attraction burned low in Bucky's belly, and he was once again reminded that he was very, very gay. Fuck, the guy practically radiated a unique aura of sexy. </p><p>He raised his arms above his head, in a starfish pose, feet spread apart. </p><p>Bucky swallowed hard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>222</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hot as Sand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic would not exist without the wonderful  <a href="https://shelikestv.tumblr.com/">Lindsay</a> who not only gave me the idea but also beta'd it!!! You're the best, thanks again for giving me suggestions and leaving your lovely comments haha. </p><p>I wanted to go to the beach (since last year uGH) so why not bring our favorite characters there instead? :) Oh and look at that, this is my first work of 2021! Do you know what that means? BAKERY AU!!! That fic will get written soon and I've planned it for <i> months <i> :D</i></i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hot Blondie at your two o’clock,” Natasha said as she passed by, balancing a full tray of steaming food on her shoulder. </p><p>Bucky whipped his head up from the small notepad he’d been writing on. There he was, the same gorgeous beefcake who had been making appearances every so often in the past week. Or, as he called him, ‘Hot Blondie.’ The name wasn’t Bucky’s fault. Clint had dubbed him that after he wouldn’t shut up about Bucky’s crush. Reluctantly, he went along with it.  </p><p>Hot Blondie walked across the stone path to the beach every day around noon. Sitting on a large, but smooth rock, he’d ready his sketchpad in his lap, pencil in hand. Today was no different. An artist, Bucky guessed, given the satchel full of art supplies. </p><p>His golden-blonde hair had a wind-blown look to it, bangs sticking up in different directions. God, it should be illegal to stuff bulging biceps into a shirt that tight. Bucky swallowed hard. He looked like the front cover of a men’s fitness magazine. </p><p>“Barnes,” said his boss, Pepper. </p><p>Letting out a breath, Bucky ran a hand through his hair, breaking away from his dazed staring. “Yes, ma’am?” </p><p>Pepper gave a short nod in the direction of the customer sitting at the small round table. “Agent Coulson asked you a question.” </p><p>“Oh, my apologies,” Bucky said. He tucked his chin, throwing a sheepish, but playful smile back at Pepper. Hopefully, that would charm her into liking him as an employee even if it was only his second week on the job. </p><p>The truth was, he wouldn’t even have this job if it weren’t for Natasha who’d known Pepper and pitched the idea. Luckily, his high school experience at a small-town diner in Indiana had paid off. He thought fondly of his mother and sister who he’d lived with then, a small curl forming at the edges of his lips. </p><p>He left that thought behind, meeting Pepper's eyes. He needed this job. Engineering School didn't exactly pay for itself.</p><p>Agent Coulson, one of their many regulars, pointed at a picture on the menu. Grilled mahi-mahi, seared a deep golden brown. Minced garlic and a slice of lemon topped it off, parsley surrounding the plate in a lavish presentation. </p><p>He asked, “Are your fish fresh off the boat?” </p><p>Bucky nodded, giving Pepper another small smile before she went off to attend business matters. “Yessir, we do. Every day, straight from the docks.” </p><p>“Great, I’ll take an order of that with a side of coconut rice.” </p><p>Bucky scribbled the order on his notepad, daring to look toward the beach once more. He’d lost count how many times he’d checked out Hot Blondie’s well-endowed pecs, his hot piece of ass (oh what Bucky would give to knead his hands into the soft flesh), and his monster thighs. Temptation nagged his brain. One little peek couldn’t hurt, he rationalized, cheeks turning a light pink. Besides, Bucky couldn’t help himself. </p><p>On a large beach towel, a little way beyond the rock where the art supplies resided, Hot Blondie raised his arms above his head, in a starfish pose, feet spread apart. Bucky was sure he didn’t realize he was putting on quite the show. He had his back turned, facing the ocean, shoulder blades highlighted by his tight shirt. Damn. Too bad he wasn’t shirtless. Okay, so maybe that was a good thing or Bucky would definitely lose his marbles. </p><p>“I’ll put that in right away,” Bucky said, taking the menu away and heading inside the restaurant— not before giving one last look at Hot Blondie, who kept on stretching.<br/>
<br/>
Stretching probably entailed running, which meant— </p><p>Jesus, it was going to be one hell of a long day.</p><p>The size of the restaurant was rather small since it was mainly outdoors with nothing but a handful of tables and chairs that occupied the dining area. When Bucky pushed the kitchen door open, the air was thick with a variety of foods.</p><p>His mouth watered at the row of plates. Flatbread wrapped with finely chopped romaine lettuce, sliced tomatoes, red onions, and cucumbers. Dabs of greek yogurt accentuated the bite-sized pieces of lamb. People from all around came to eat the famous dish. After all, they were listed as the best Shawarma restaurant in Brighton Beach. </p><p>Before making his way out, Bucky nodded at Maria, their cook, an exceptional one at that. Loud music blared from the outdoor stereo. The fading equipment had been strapped to the bar’s roof and wrapped with white string lights. </p><p>“Dude,” Clint said above the noise, giving Bucky an inquisitive look. </p><p>Bucky halted in his tracks; tables wouldn’t wait themselves. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“I don’t think Hot Blondie is gonna notice you anytime soon with that hairdo.” </p><p>“Aw, fuck off, Clint,” Bucky said, making sure his hair was still in its bun. It wasn’t. The perks of working at the beach. He leaned against the bar, tying his hair up then washed his hands after. “It’s not like I’m <em> trying </em>to impress the guy or anything.” </p><p>Clint turned the blender off, pouring the mixture into a glass cup. “Sure does to me, but whatever man.” </p><p>Bucky scoffed, hands in his apron pockets. “One time. I set up an advertisement sign <em>one time. </em> Besides, Pepper’s not gonna give me crap for bringin’ in new customers.” </p><p>“Fair enough,” Clint said, nodding. “But all the flirtatious looks you’ve thrown at him was for...?” </p><p>“Fine!” Bucky raised his arms up in the air and let them fall back. “I’m thirsting for him faster than Nat can down an entire bottle of vodka, okay?”</p><p>“I heard my name, and by my name, I mean vodka,” Natasha said, setting an empty serving tray on the bar. </p><p>“We’ve got a major code red, ‘Tasha.” </p><p>Natasha raised a single brow, elbows resting on the bar’s edge. Her all-too-familiar grin only meant trouble. She looked right at Bucky. “Really?” </p><p>Clint hummed, wiping the bar with a hand towel. “By the look of things, Buckster wants to get railed by Hot Blondie in the next twenty-four hours.” </p><p>That was not what Bucky wanted to hear, especially from Clint of all people. Except, yes. Bucky <em>did </em>want to get frisky. And hell, he hadn’t been laid in months. What it would feel like, Hot Blondie tugging on his almost-shoulder length hair, moaning out his name, skin to skin and bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat? The list of things Bucky wanted to do with Hot Blondie was endless. </p><p>It was a fantasy, though. They hadn’t met. A fleeting thought caused Bucky to frown. Hot Blondie wasn’t even aware he existed. Every smile and hair flip went unnoticed. </p><p>“I’m going back to my job,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Unlike you two.” </p><p>“Hey, I’m busy working!” As if Clint wiping off the counter multiple times and occasionally fixing a short list of drinks would count as <em>busy. </em> When it did get hectic, Clint was more than capable of quickly knocking out orders with the least amount of effort. </p><p>“I’ll keep a lookout for Hot Blondie,” Bucky heard Natasha say from a faraway distance, already at another customer’s table. </p><p>The past-noon rush hour was booming, as usual. The restaurant was popular and in the right spot with an abundance of tourist attractions. Plenty of families, couples, and tourists came and went. It finally settled down by a little past three in the afternoon. </p><p>Dirty dishes, glasses, and silverware took up more than three large tables. Just great. With that in mind, Bucky had enough tasks to keep him occupied for the next half hour. The job pays well, he reminded himself. </p><p>Too stubborn to do it in multiple (unnecessary) trips, Bucky stacked plates upon plates on top of each other. </p><p>Wobbling as the china tethered, Bucky turned, arms weighed down with a towering pile of over a dozen plates. He held his breath as the expensive, restaurant quality glass threatened to shatter on the ground as his first fireable offense.  </p><p>Then, clear as day he spied sunlit hair and god-like muscles from the corner of his eye. Blondie. Shirtless, with killer abs on full display. He was jogging— no, running down the sidewalk, a short distance from where Bucky stood, frozen. Hot Blondie’s hair blew in the wind, swim trunks hugging the expanse of his thighs.</p><p>
  <em> Christ almighty, what an ass. </em>
</p><p>Does he do squats for a living or something? It certainly looked like it. No one, virtually no one Bucky had ever known in his dating/relationship life ever had an ass like that. </p><p>“This is unfair,” Bucky whined to himself. </p><p>He thought about the way his sister had always teased him about fancying muscular, blonde men but he'd always denied it. Staring at the man in front of him, though, he was starting to be convinced she was right. </p><p>In the hot midday sun, sweat glistened from Hot Blondie’s broad shoulders down to his stomach. As if time came to a crawl, Hot Blondie turned his head slowly toward Bucky and winked. </p><p>
  <em> Winked. </em>
</p><p>What did Bucky do to deserve this torture? </p><p>Like a stunned idiot, Bucky remained standing there with the dirty plates threatening to slip out of his clammy hands. He felt his cheeks and ears heat up from more than just the bright sun.  </p><p>Then, Hot Blondie slowed down and his face morphed into concern. </p><p>Oh no. No, no, no, this was not happening. Bucky would book it out of there if not for his full arms. </p><p>“Hey, looks like you could use a hand,” Hot Blondie said, and dear god, those plump pink lips were so kissable. It was downright sinful.  </p><p>Bucky’s eyes darted unsure of where to look. Chest? Arms? Lips? Eyes? He briefly made eye contact, swimming in the color blue before taking a deep gulp. Attraction burned low in his belly, and he was once again reminded that he was very, very gay. Fuck, the guy practically radiated a unique aura of <em>sexy</em>. </p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Bucky stammered, letting Hot Blondie carefully pull at the tallest pile. The stack looked small, cradled in his massive forearms that were easily twice the size of Bucky's. </p><p>“Gotta be careful next time,” Hot Blondie said with a short laugh. Music to Bucky’s ears. After he set the stack into a nearby rolling cart, he ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. </p><p>“Uh-huh,” Bucky mumbled, tongue-tied, eyes tracking his every move. “Thanks.” </p><p>Hot Blondie waved, jogging back down the path. “Take care now.” </p><p>Feet glued to the concrete, he watched as Hot Blondie sped past a handful of joggers. He stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. It was a habit when he pinned for someone. <em>Really pinned. </em>   </p><p>“Dude,” Clint said, spooking Bucky enough for the remaining plates in his arms to jostle. Clint caught it in time. “You are so fucked.” </p><p>“Tell me about it.” </p><p>“‘Tasha’s going to lose her shit when she finds out muscle boy came shirtless to your rescue.” </p><p>“Oh—” Bucky groaned, wiping a palm over his face. “Always with the fucking nicknames.”</p><p>Glasses clinked together as Clint gathered a few. “But it’s fun to—” Singing interrupted him </p><p>“Blondie and James, nestled under a palm tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G,” Natasha sang. </p><p>Unbelievable. Bucky would never get any peace around here. From his friends or his crush. “How old are you?”  </p><p>“Enough,” was all she said. </p><p>“Buckster saw Blondie shirtless!” Clint blurted out faster than Bucky could clasp a hand over his mouth.  </p><p>“Clint!”</p><p>Bucky knew full well that Natasha was attempting to hide a grin. It may not show on the outside, but on the inside, she was probably giggling up a storm. “Go on,” she said. </p><p>Bucky glanced at the server station. A water pitcher was full of ice, condensation droplets sliding down the glass. Oh, it would go on alright. </p><p>Scrambling to avoid cold ice water sliding down his shirt, Clint held onto Natasha’s arms for dear life. There would be a hefty price to pay if she was the victim of their shenanigans.  </p><p>“Basically, Mario saved the princess from dropping the fine china,” Clint told her, ducking behind her for safe measure. </p><p>Defeated, Bucky abandoned the pitcher. “You’re impossible, you know that?” </p><p>“That’s why we’re friends!”  <br/>
<br/>
“For the record,” Natasha tutted, “I would kill to see a video.” </p><p>Clint rested his chin on Natasha's shoulder, eyes hovering to the roof. “Security cameras—” </p><p>“No!” Bucky dipped his fingers into the pitcher, getting them wet before flicking a few drops on Clint’s face. </p><p>“That feels kinda nice actually so I’m not even mad.” </p><p>“Again, <em> impossible.</em>” </p><p>Natasha straightened her back out, noticing Pepper heading their way. “Okay, that’s enough!” She hissed. “Make yourselves look busy.” </p><p>Continuing with the rest of his shift was tough considering all thoughts led to Hot Blondie. The mental picture of Hot Blondie’s beautiful face and shirtless chest was stapled inside his brain. There was no hope of erasing that memory. Not that he wanted to. It almost felt like a fevered dream; being so up and close with Hot Blondie. </p><p>Surprisingly, the dinner service was much quieter than lunch. Their hostess, Carol, led a party of four to a square table with an umbrella attached in the center. </p><p>Bucky froze momentarily as he surveyed the group. </p><p>Sunglasses pushed casually into slightly damp hair, was Hot Blondie. He wore a loose-fitting tank top beneath an open blue floral button-down. Stylishly, he finished the look with cream-colored shorts. </p><p>Two additional men sat at the table: a man with dark skin who was nearly as strong as Hot Blondie, and another man with a goatee talking a mile a minute. </p><p>There was a woman, too. She was short with dark brown, curly hair blowing in the light, evening breeze. Her arms were locked around Hot Blondie’s, and he pulled out the chair for her. </p><p>Girlfriend. </p><p>Why does Bucky always fall for straight guys? Especially those who were already in relationships. Luck was not on Bucky’s side. During the course of the week, earlier in the afternoon, and now. </p><p>On that note, Bucky flipped his notepad open, ignoring the way Hot Blondie was looking at the brunette. Both of them were enthralled by the choices on the menu. Bucky walked up and greeted everyone with the usual, “Hi, my name is Bucky and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. What can I start you off with?” </p><p>The goatee man raised three fingers. “Three dirty martinis. Don’t hold back on the olives.” </p><p>“Tony,” Hot Blondie said, exasperated, arms crossed. “I’m not drinking tonight, remember?” </p><p>The guy, Tony, waved a hand in the air then slouched in his chair. “Fine, be a grump. More for me anyway.” </p><p>The redhead’s posture was far better than Tony’s, if not elegant. She looked over to Bucky with a soft smile like his mother would always give him. Her English accent stood out when she spoke, “I’ll take one, dear.”<br/>
<br/>
Tony raised a hand, stopping Bucky from writing the order on his notepad. </p><p>“Yes?” Bucky asked. </p><p>“Make that three instead of two— unless,” Tony tutted with a finger pressed to the side of his cheek. “Wilson?” </p><p>“No,” Wilson said, rock solid in his reply.  </p><p>“Alright, fine then,” Tony said with a clap of his hands, grinning. “Two martinis for me and one for the lovely Peggy.” </p><p><em> Three dirty martinis</em>, Bucky wrote. </p><p>“Do the mozzarella sticks come with marinara sauce?” Wilson asked, ignoring Tony’s banter about everyone’s drink preferences. </p><p>“They do, and it’s made entirely from scratch,” Bucky informed with a nod, writing<em>, ‘large mozz’ </em>once Wilson gave a hum of approval.  </p><p>The reality of Bucky’s feelings came back to him like a giant tidal wave. Hot Blondie’s smile was brighter than the sun, eyes focused on Bucky and only Bucky. As if it were just the two of them, no one else around. “I’m easy to please. I’ll take a ham melt with a side of potato salad.” </p><p>Ham melt, side of <em> pota- pota- pota- </em> Bucky kept tracing over the same four letters, yet it was barely legible. “Damn it,” he said under his breath. “Sorry. Pen’s out of ink. If you could excuse me for a moment—” </p><p>“Actually,” Hot Blondie said, rummaging in his satchel, shoulder strap draped across the back of the chair. He held up a pen— artist quality no doubt—between his pointer finger and thumb. “You can borrow mine.” </p><p>Sparks flew through his hand when they collided; the tips of their fingers touching. Bucky tried to put a word to the feeling: Fireworks? Confetti? Magic? Unsure if he was feeling the same thing, he met Hot Blondie’s eyes. Maybe he was being delusional. The dude’s girlfriend was sitting right there, after all. </p><p>“Thanks,” Bucky whispered. He tried to hide the growing blush on his cheeks by keeping his head lowered and focusing on jotting down the next round of orders. </p><p>Wilson ordered the salmon scampi. Peggy ordered the house salad, with dressing on the side. Tony? Tony practically ordered every goddamn item on the menu. Hot Blondie shouldn’t ever expect to get his pen back at the rate Tony was listing foods. Seared scallops, stuffed lobster tails, shrimp cocktail, the list went on but most of all, shawarma. </p><p>“I’ll get those drinks out to you shortly,” Bucky said, taking the opportunity to slip out of the ongoing conversation. He glanced back and saw Hot Blondie drape an arm across the back of Peggy’s chair. Definitely the girlfriend, then. Sighing, he realized his chance of hitting it off with Hot Blondie was gone. </p><p>At the bar, Bucky was immediately bombarded with comments from Clint and Natasha. Silently, he looked at them for a moment, then diverted his gaze. He had put on a strong face, but it came as no surprise that Natasha wasn’t immune to it. </p><p>“Wow, you were right,” Natasha said, nudging Clint with her elbow. “James is fucked.” </p><p>Not exactly the way Bucky wanted to get— he stopped himself from completing that thought. </p><p>“Rather not talk about it, thanks,” he said. “And would you stop callin’ me that? Been telling you since high school.”</p><p>“Nope, you’ll always be James to me.” </p><p>Bucky sighed, turning his attention to Clint, “Three dirty martini’s.” </p><p>Clint made an intrigued hum then proceeded to fix the drinks. Natasha frowned at Bucky’s slouched shoulders and grabbed the torn order to take to the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to. She returned quickly, giving him a small smile. </p><p>“Here we are,” Bucky said, setting the two glasses on the table, Natasha bringing the third. </p><p>Tony clapped, sitting up straighter. “Wonderful.” He sipped the drink, face lighting up. “Okay, who’s back there making the drinks? Moe Szyslak?” </p><p>Hot Blondie turned his nose up, eyebrows raised, one part disgusted, and one part confused. “Who?”</p><p>Tony waved a hand in the air as if it were just a force of habit. “You never get my references.” </p><p>“Nobody ever does, Tony,” Wilson said, thrumming in excitement when another server came by with the mozzarella sticks.  </p><p>Peggy stirred her two remaining olives around her drink with the provided skewer. “I’ve seen a few episodes from my time in the states.” </p><p>Bucky cleared his throat. “Your food will be out soon.”  No one seemed to pay attention, though, instead preoccupied with an off-the-wall reference from Tony about some TV show. </p><p>“Hey,” Natasha whispered, a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I can probably get you a date if you want? Sorry that you got your hopes up.” </p><p>“Nah,” Bucky said, ignoring Hot Blondie’s roaring laughter behind him. “I haven’t had one in forever so what’s the point, now?” </p><p>“Well, I’ll be here if you need a shoulder to cry on.”</p><p>Bucky raised a hand in the air, waving Natasha off. “Not high school anymore, Nat.” </p><p>Right. Back to work. He could get through this. </p><p>Trying to calm his mind, Bucky came up with a method: Cater to the tables and check up on them frequently, as good servers do. Top off everyone’s drinks. Try not to look in the direction of Hot Blondie. Return to Hot Blondie’s table and make sure everything was okay. </p><p>With the help of Natasha and another server, they managed to get everyone settled with their food. It was practically a feast from Bucky’s perspective. </p><p>It didn’t win Bucky any favors when another large party was seated directly across from Hot Blondie’s table, close enough that he could hear everything they were saying. Is it considered eavesdropping if he was just doing his job? </p><p>“So, internship in London, huh?” Hot Blondie said, his body turned toward her. </p><p>Peggy sighed. “I want to stay longer, I really do.” </p><p>Hot Blondie smiled, though it seemed forced. “Hey, it was nice of you to stay while you could.”</p><p>A breakup?</p><p>“I’ll call and video chat as often as I can, okay? Promise.” </p><p>Or a long-distance relationship? </p><p>Tony snorted into his non-alcoholic drink. “Please, he’ll be the one to call you first.” </p><p>Yup, a long-distance relationship. </p><p>“Oh, he will,” Wilson said, continuing, “I’ve already heard my fair share of complaints about every failed date he’s had in the last month. Now you’re in for it, Peggy.”</p><p>Wait,<em> what?  </em></p><p>Dates? As in, multiple? </p><p>“I’m sure you’ll find someone soon, darling,” Peggy replied, rubbing Hot Blondie’s arm when he frowned, silently pouting. </p><p>So they were just friends? Maybe Bucky’s luck was coming back to save the day. Then again, Hot Blondie could be straight for all he knew. </p><p>Bucky finished gathering the orders from the large party, then the one and only Hot Blondie waved him over.</p><p>What timing. </p><p>“How was everything?” </p><p>Hot Blondie stretched a little, sighing after. “Amazing, and I think we’re ready to go.”</p><p>Bucky forced a smile, nodding in understanding. “I’ll grab your bill— oh,” he said, turning back around where he’d already begun to walk away. “Separate checks or is this all together?”</p><p>All eyes landed on Tony.</p><p>“What do you guys need me for?”</p><p>“Money,” they all said. </p><p>Tony laughed, then looked over at Bucky, presenting a debit card. “Well, you here ‘em.” </p><p>As Bucky rang up their total, Natasha came around and rested her folded hands on his shoulders. “I overheard some good news,” she whispered with a smirk, her cheek close to Bucky’s. </p><p>“Nat, please.” </p><p>“You might have a shot. Go up and ask him before they leave.” </p><p>Bucky slid the receipt and card into a pocket of the guest checkbook. “That’s kinda awkward don’t ya think? In front of his friends?” </p><p>Natasha shrugged, stepping aside to let someone by, carrying a tray of food. “It doesn’t have to be much. Just, ‘wanna go out?’ Easy.” </p><p>“Fine, what do I have to lose?”</p><p>Easier said than done. </p><p>When Bucky came back to their table, Hot Blondie was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Wilson or Peggy. All that remained was Tony. </p><p>Bucky, while trying to mask his sad, disappointed face, held up the checkbook for Tony to take.</p><p>He didn’t reach for it.</p><p>“I don’t like being handed things,” Tony said, not moving an inch. </p><p>Blinking slowly, Bucky took a step back, swallowing down a snarky comeback. “Okay?” Bucky set the checkbook near the table’s edge, empty dinner plates and martini glasses surrounding the area. “Have a good night then.” </p><p>“Uh-huh,” he replied but grabbed Bucky’s attention right after with a snap of a finger. “Any chance the owner is around?”</p><p>Oh, Bucky knew where this was going. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time a customer asked him to ‘speak to the manager.’ </p><p>“She is, I could get her if you wanted?” </p><p>“Yeah, that’d be great.” </p><p>Tony held out a hand before signing the receipt. “Nothing bad, that would be rude of me. It’s just that I haven’t been to a well-organized restaurant in so long. With incredible food no less. Your boss seems to know what she’s doing and well, I’m impressed by that alone.” </p><p>Rich people things. No wonder Tony asked him; his casual, but well-tailored suit jacket said it all. Maybe he was in the restaurant business, too. Or he could just be a rich guy looking to inquire about whatever it was that rich people cared about. </p><p>Silently, Bucky threw back a tight-lipped smile. He went off and found Pepper who was chatting with a group of regulars. “Ma’am? There’s a guy from table eight who wants to speak with you.” </p><p>Pepper excused herself from the group, and her face lit up when she looked across the way.  “Is that— Tony?”</p><p>Bucky, startled, looked at Pepper with a raised brow. “You know him?”</p><p>“Yes, well, no. We went to the same college but never pursued a relationship. He was busy partying and I was too preoccupied with studying and keeping a job.”</p><p>Wow, small world. </p><p>“Huh,” was all Bucky could say, watching Pepper glee in delight as she talked to Tony. They hugged. Well, at least someone got lucky. Bucky’s luck was all dried up. Again. </p><p>“Aw man, I had celebration shots all fixed and ready to go.” </p><p>Bucky spun around on his heels, heart pounding from the rush of adrenaline. “Stop scaring me like that, Jesus, Clint.” </p><p>Clint whispered, “Sorry ‘bout that, man,” he clarified, “about not getting that hot date, and about spookin’ you, of course.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” Bucky said. “Just happy for Pepper, at least.” </p><p>“You never know. He could show up again.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t press your luck.”</p><p>To say the least, Bucky was sorely disappointed. Sure, he missed his grand opportunity, but it wasn’t like he had a shot in the first place. </p><p>The remaining hours of his shift went by faster than he realized. A busy restaurant packed to the brim could do that. By closing time, his sore feet protested every step. Natasha had already driven Clint home. Other wait staff members were cleaning up and preparing for the next day. Pepper had also gone home after talking to Tony for at least a few hours. </p><p>Bucky was fastening down the table umbrellas when a voice spoke up behind him. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Bucky turned around and was face to face with Hot Blondie. He was stunned and a little bit shocked. Not only from the surprise of his late appearance, but at the short distance between them. He was barely two heartbeats away. </p><p>“Hi,” Bucky whispered back. </p><p>Hot Blondie grinned, his mouth upturned. Everything about him was perfect. From his windswept hair and long eyelashes to his soft freckles sprinkling around his nose and cheeks. The ocean was behind him, but Bucky could swear he was already looking at it. </p><p>Hot Blondie lowered his head down and back up again in a quick, subtle manner by reading the nametag that was clipped on Bucky’s apron. </p><p>“Bucky, is it?” </p><p>Bucky nodded, a breath caught in his throat. Suddenly it dawned on him that he still didn’t know Hot Blondie’s real name. </p><p>With hands on his hips, Hot Blondie looked away for a moment, then focused back on Bucky again. “This might sound weird, awkward even,” he said, forehead pinched, clearly nervous. “Do you uh, wanna go out sometime?”</p><p>Definitely shocked now, Bucky felt his lower back pressing against the hard material of the table, mouth agape. He kept an iron grip on a chair to keep his balance. </p><p>Seriously, how did Bucky go from, ‘I think this guy is straight,’ to hearing, ‘Do you wanna go out sometime,’ in such a short amount of time? </p><p>“Wait,” Bucky finally replied, voice shaky. “You what?” </p><p>He honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. </p><p>Hot Blondie’s smile faded, it turned into a frown. “Oh, sorry.” His shoes scraped against the concrete, turning back around. “Sorry for bothering you.” </p><p>It was a risky move, but Bucky lunged forward and laced his hand with Hot Blondie’s, pulling him back. </p><p>“No, that’s not what I meant,” Bucky said, feeling a glimmer of hope. “I’d love to!” </p><p>While wearing that beautiful smile again, Hot Blondie released a belly-deep laugh, eyes crinkled in the corners. </p><p>“You do?” He asked. Bucky nodded frantically. </p><p>“Oh good,” he said. “I was nervous all this time but I finally found the courage after my friends had given me a pep talk. They’ve been teasing me throughout the week actually, and Tony kept badgering us to try the restaurant— though I think it was more about me than the food, really.” </p><p>It was Bucky’s turn to return a smile. “Really? Well, we were in the same boat because I admit, I was a little nervous, too.” </p><p>“But hey,” he said, smirking, shrugging a shoulder. “I saved you from dropping those plates.” </p><p>“Yeah, you did,” Bucky agreed, laughing as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. </p><p>Curiosity overcame Bucky. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping but the curly redhead wasn’t your girlfriend?” </p><p>The look on Hot Blondie’s face could only be described as pure embarrassment, mixed with unease. “Peggy? No, oh god no. She’s like a sister to me.” </p><p>Bucky released a relieved sigh. Score one for not falling for another straight guy. “Hey,” he said after a long beat. </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“What’s your name?” </p><p>Blushing more prominent than ever, he replied, “Steve. Steve Rogers.” </p><p>“Steve,” Bucky murmured, barely above a whisper. </p><p>Huh, he sure does look like a guy named Steve. It was fitting. Bucky loved it. </p><p>“Bucky Barnes— or James, but nobody but Natasha calls me that.” </p><p>“Well, Bucky Barnes,” <em> Steve </em>said, a glimmer in his eye, gaining far more courage than he had previously. “How about a movie tomorrow night? Or the next time you’re free.” </p><p>“I’d have to request time off but I don’t think that would be a problem.” </p><p>They exchanged numbers. Bucky titled the contact name for Steve as, '<em>Stevie.’ </em>Sue him, it was a great nickname. Maybe even better than ‘Hot Blondie.’ </p><p>“I’ll see you then,” Steve said, and proceeded to walk away but then jolted to a stop. </p><p>Their hands were still linked together. Neither of them had let go since the moment Bucky entwined his with Steve’s. </p><p>“Um,” Bucky laughed, raising their hands up. </p><p>Right at that moment Steve leaned forward and cupped Bucky’s lower jaw with one hand. The distant sound of waves crashing mellowed as smooth lips brushed against his cheek. Bucky’s knees buckled, threatening to melt entirely. He imagined if he’d actually been able to kiss Steve for real, he’d have tasted like honey. When Steve parted, Bucky grinned from ear to ear. There was always next time. </p><p>Steve smirked as if he knew exactly what Bucky was thinking. </p><p>“So, tomorrow night?”</p><p>Bucky smiled. “Tomorrow night.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love comments! Long, short, even if they're just a reaction gif or an emoji :)  </p><p>I said I'd never do it but I'll be juggling two WIPs across two different fandoms, haha. My Bakery AU and my Spongebob+Supernatural crossover on my secondary pseud. (Yes, that is a thing lol) But I can't wait to share both!! </p><p>Come talk to me on <a href="https://metalbvcky.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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